“You know he’s settled over there, don’t you?”
“Settled?” My throat closes up and I curl my arms around my waist.
“With Priya and his girls.”
I nod. “Right.” My shoulders cave inwards, and I look down at my shuffling feet. “I still need to speak to him.”
“I’ll tell him to call you.” She smiles and closes the door, but I jam my foot over the threshold.
“Wait. Let me write my number down. He may not have it.” I rummage in my bag, looking for a pen.
She hands me a notepad and pencil from the old telephone table positioned in her hallway. “Write it on this, dear.”
“Thank you.” I jot my number down and hand it over. She smiles and closes the door. The encounter leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth. Even walking by her beautiful rose garden can’t lift my spirits. I sigh heavily and slip back into my car, though I can’t blame him for giving things another go with Priya. If not her, it would have been someone else. He’s not the sort of person who would go celibate.
* * *
Sittingin the waiting room at the private hospital, my bladder is ready to burst. I glance at the clock and know my appointment is imminent, thank goodness.
This scan is costing me a pretty penny, but I couldn’t wait for the NHS appointment to come through. I need to know whose baby I’m carrying, and if it’s his, I’ll be making another trip to his mother’s. Priya or no Priya. He needs to know he’s going to be a father.
A sharp pain stabs me in the chest when I think of him seeing another woman. Although I’ll have to get used to it. I’m thankful now that he’s in Australia, and I don’t have to see him around the street like I did in our teens.
“Mrs Bailey,” the sonographer calls, snapping me from my depressing thoughts. I put on a fake smile and clutch my bag as I follow her into the small room. “Make yourself comfortable on the bed and lift your top.”
I do as she asks, although it’s hard to make yourself comfortable with a pint of water in your bladder. I can already feel a dribble in my knickers as it seeps out. After my last two kids, I’ve never been able to hold my bladder. They destroyed my pelvic floor. I haven’t been able to go on a trampoline since.You never went on one before?
“Right, Mrs Bailey, how many weeks do you think you are?”
“I’m hoping you will tell me.” I flash her a fake smile and hope she hurries up so I can relieve myself.
She pushes up her black-framed glasses and tucks her dark bobbed hair behind her ears. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
My stomach tightens at the cool sensation when she squeezes half a tube of lube onto my belly. The screen comes alive, lighting up the dim room. I tilt my head to see the black and white images as she moves the doppler around my skin.
The screen displays an odd-looking bean and I let out a sigh of relief that there’s just the one. The sonographer turns the volume up, and I hear the heartbeat pulsing from the machine. Water pools in the corners of my eyes and rolls down the side of my face when I blink. It’s such a special moment the first time you hear that, especially after suffering from miscarriage.
Cal should be here with me. We should experience this together. If only he hadn’t been so difficult. He hasn't been in touch with me yet. I find it hard to be mad at him, though. We’d be together if I hadn’t denied him. I’m going to make things right. As soon as this woman stops pressing on my bladder, and I’ve had a pee, I’m going to make this right.
“From these calculations, you’re nine weeks pregnant,” the woman says, adjusting her glasses as she examines a chart.
I hold my breath as the small, dark room closes in on me. “Can you check again, please?”
“I’ve done the calculations based on the baby’s measurements, seeing as you can’t actually be sure of your last period.” She writes some dates on my notes. “Would you like a picture to take away?”
I nod, unable to speak. If the lights were on, she’d see the colour drain from my face as I lay numb.
I hear the printer behind me fire up and the lights flicker back on. Using the blue paper roll, she wipes the lube from my stomach, and I pull my top down.
“All looks well.” She hands me a strip of photographs. “I’ve estimated the due date to January 20th.”
My mouth drops open. Callum’s birthday too. What a coincidence.
“You’ll be happy to know you can go to the toilet now,” she says with a hint of laughter in her voice.
I had forgotten all about the need to relieve myself.
“Are you all right?”